


Moving Forward Slowly

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Ambushes and Sneak Attacks, Angry Sherlock Holmes, Annoyed Molly Hooper, Concussed Molly Hooper, Concussions, Couch Cuddles, Crying Molly Hooper, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Fresh Start, Happy Molly Hooper, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Molly Hooper, Love Confessions, Mentioned Meena, Molly Hooper Loves Sherlock Holmes, POV Molly Hooper, Post-Episode: s04e03 The Final Problem, Quiet, Sherlock Holmes Loves Molly Hooper, Sherlock Is Waiting, Workplace, Worried Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 09:32:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16015163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: After Molly is injured in the course of a shift at a neighbouring hospital's A&E, she returns home to see Sherlock waiting for her, not at all happy about the situation...but it appears there's more to it than just that.





	Moving Forward Slowly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [katiebuttercup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katiebuttercup/gifts).



> This was a fic asked for by **katiebuttercup** to involve the "injured at an A &E by a patient" scenario and incorporate the quote " _'I'm mad at you because I love you.'_ " This doesn't meet the word count I had promised so there will be a second fic with that quote, just a different ship. But please, enjoy some post-TFP angstiness!

It happened more quickly than she would have liked. Well, to be quite honest, she would have preferred it not have happened at all, but it _did_ and she was so angry at herself for not reacting faster and getting hurt in the process.

She’d been in the A&E at a different hospital, having been “loaned out” for a bit with a staff shortage at the hospital. She wasn’t used to working with live patients but that didn’t mean she couldn’t do it, so long as it was more generalized duties. Thankfully, the A&E had had on doing sutures and other minor duties to free up some of the more experienced A&E staff to work on the more urgent cases. It was a rather nice bit of a change of pace, as these staff exchanges rarely if ever happened. And...well, even doing a little bit to save a patient made her feel better after all the death she saw day in and day out.

There had been a bloke, high as a kite, yelling and making a fuss. She’d ignored him as best he could because he was in the waiting room and she was servicing people inside the A&E, but then…

Well, to be honest, it was still a bit of a blur, but now she had a concussion and a blackened eye and he had a scalpel in his leg. Nothing dangerous, but the pain had caused him to crumple to the floor so security could get a hold of him and...take him elsewhere, strap him down, she had no idea. The point was he was escorted away to have his leg looked at somewhere that wasn’t near her.

And then the doctor became the patient for a bit until Meena came over from Barts and took her home. She could have caught a cab or the tube, really; she’d had concussions before and really, it was the blackened eye that worried her more than the bump on the head, but staff insisted and she knew she had to cede to their wishes. Meena had kept up a light conversation, occasionally referring to her as a hero, but really she just wanted a soak and sleep when she was able. A film on low volume and a pint of ice cream seemed a good way to kill the time until she could crawl into bed and forget the day had happened and then wake up and go to her normal post and not have to deal with breathing, living people for...a while, hopefully. At least as patients; there were always interns and nurses and DIs and whatnot in and out of her morgue.

Those plans, however, were dashed the moment she opened her door as saw the lone light on in her sitting room. “You may as well go home, Meena,” she said to her friend. “I have company.”

“Him?” she asked.

Molly nodded. “Him.”

Meena leaned over and gave her a hug and then left, and Molly closed the door behind her, letting it close softly as noise was not what she wanted at the moment, and then locked all te locks for good measure. She had no idea exactly how he had gotten in, as she’d changed the keys after his fall from the roof and then once more after the video, and hadn’t bothered to give him a copy the second time, but sitting as if he owned the chair was Sherlock Holmes, her...something or other.

She had no idea what they were. Lovers, certainly; that had been the case since her engagement ended and she found her way to Baker Street, knowing full well that he was the one she would always want and no pale substitute would suffice. The heady moments of their lovemaking lasted longer and longer for a time until…

Well, that night. The phone call. The reveal of the sister. The whole mess where her secrets were laid bare, but not as much as his were. They shagged, yes, but there was only love on her part. Knowing he loved her and meant it...that had changed everything. Not necessarily for the worse, but also not for the better either. They were at a loss for what, exactly, they were and were slowly working their way towards figuring it out as life intervened around them.

But whatever they were, he felt he had the right to be here and she’d wait to see what he had to say before she decided if he could join her for the telly and ice cream or if she booted his arse back to Baker Street. It had been an eventful evening and she was in a Mood with a capital M herself. “I see you made yourself comfortable,” she said as she set her handbag and keys on the table.

“You were injured tonight,” he said, his voice almost even, but with a slight tremor she knew he was trying so very hard to conceal.

“Did your spies tell you or did your brothers?” she asked, lifting her scarf from around her neck and hanging it on her coat rack, followed by her coat.

“You could have called me to come and get you instead of Meena,” he said, almost spitting the words out, as though he was angry, but that wasn’t all. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but could he possibly be hurt? Scared? Worried? Some combination of the three?

“She’s listed as my emergency contact,” she said trying to sound as though she didn’t just want him to go away. She was so tired, which she knew wasn’t the best sign when one had a concussion, but she also didn’t want to argue. Not tonight, not with him.

“Then what am I?” he asked, pushing himself out of the seat.

“I don’t know, Sherlock,” she said. “What are you to me?”

He huffed. “You and I...we're...” he said, trailing off. He paused and then spoke again. “We’re together.”

“Yes, but what _are_ we?” She turned and saw him inches away, staring at her with wide eyes. The bruising around her eye must have started to show. Wonderful; she supposed an ice pack would be in order.

He reached over and gingerly touched her face, just under where she had gotten hit. She didn’t flinch but she didn’t melt at his touch either. It wasn’t the way it had been before, it was different now and she hated this so so much. It never should have been this way. They had deserved better.

They still deserved better.

After a moment Sherlock gently tugged her to him, wrapping his arms around her. Only then did she relax, mimicking the motion and shutting her eyes as she took in his unique scent. At some point, he’d had a cig, and there was the scent of his usual cologne and the faint trace of chemicals and sulfur. Probably had been in the middle of some experiment when he got the word about what had happened, and he was worried, and..

“I’m mad at you because I love you,” he said finally, his nose nestled in her hair and his mouth close to her head. “And I don’t know what to do. Nothing is the same, nothing seems normal. We’re distant and I don’t _like_ it but I don’t know how to fix it and this is all a mess. And I can’t protect you, you have your own life without me...you’ve had one for some time, and I don’t know how to make us fit.”

She tightened her hold on him as tears came to her eyes. She had no idea if he realized that was the first time he had said those three words to her since the phone call all those months ago, words that she thought she would never hear again. “Sherlock, I love you too,” she said, her tears soaking his shirt.

“Then why are you crying?” he asked.

“Because I don’t know how to fix things either. But I want to.”

He nodded against her head. “I want to, too.”

“Good.”

They stayed like that for some time...minutes, hours, she wasn’t sure. But soon he led her to the sofa they both fit on and pulled her close, pressing kisses into her hair, and there was blissful silence but also a warmth that had been missing between them for some time. But this was a start and a good one, and she knew, deep down, that as hard as it might be, they were going to give whatever was between them a fighting chance.


End file.
